


Black Coffee and Milky Tea

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, M/M, Multi, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is milky tea. Familiar, warm, comforting. Jim, on the other hand, is black coffee. He's sharp and bitter, a taste that lingers on the tongue and comes with a kick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not one of those clichés where they meet on his first day, lock eyes across the counter top and it’s love at first sight. Several months later they’ll still not consider it love, something that won’t come along for a while. No, it’s not one of those stories. In fact, the first time they meet Sebastian’s been there for a week and a half and Jim doesn’t really see him.

He has to come in a few hours a day during the first week to work him into it. Sebastian doesn’t really understand why he has to be worked into it. It’s only serving coffee, after all. It’s not rocket science. Mrs Hudson insists, however, and it’s never clever to argue with your boss, particularly this early. So he goes along and let’s the other barista, who introduces himself as John Watson, train him up. Sebastian likes John almost instantly, which is unusual for him. The man is warm, laid back, easy going. He has a calm head, a pleasant smile and a fondness for knitted jumpers. Overall he’s just pretty easy to get on with. He shows Sebastian his way around the machines, how to heat the milk and blend the ice for cold drinks, the difference between the different flavours. Mostly it consists of pressing buttons, which Sebastian picks up on pretty swiftly. He’s always been a fast learner.

The place is one of those homely little coffee shops that are warm and comfortable, but invisible unless you know where they are. It sits on a street corner, in plain sight but so often overlooked by the busy commuters that breeze by on their daily business. The costumers are already becoming familiar to Sebastian, the same faces popping in repeatedly on their way to work, during their lunch hour, on their journey home. It’s a gem of a place and he already holds a certain fondness for it, also unusual for him. The colour scheme is made up of autumn colours; browns, reds and oranges. The plush leather seats are a few shades darker than maroon, red and light brown cushions offering a splash of colour that compliments the dark material well. The lights aren’t those painful fluorescent strips that cast a dull yellow glow over everything, draining the life from it. Instead they hang down from the ceiling, encased in circular glass cases and casting a warm orange glow across the table tops. The room blends from coffee shop to bookshop, bookshelves dominating the far end of the room and a little counter settled between them. The shelves stretch up to the ceiling and they’re all made of dark mahogany. The air is a gorgeous mixture of coffee and that unique smell books come with; paper and ink and something indescribable. Sebastian wishes he could bottle the smell and take it home with him.

The first time he meets Jim Moriarty is early on a Tuesday morning. It’s half eight when he appears, trudging into the shop sleepily and glowering up at the drinks menu as if it were to blame for everything wrong in the world. Sebastian himself is a morning person. He’d been up at six, had his morning jog, showered and made breakfast all before landing at eight to help John open up. Therefore he’s rather amused by the sleepy expression on the rather attractive man’s face.

John’s in the kitchen with Mycroft, their baker and manager, helping him wash the trays he’d been using to make the array of treats they offer this morning. He’s only really required a few times a day. First to make the first batch of pastries, cakes, buns and so on in the morning before they open up, then again after the lunch time rush when their stock is depleted quite significantly, but he tends to linger around anyway. Being the only one up front, Sebastian makes his way over to the customer, offering him a warm smile.

“Good morning.”

Jim doesn’t even acknowledge the greeting. He continues to stare up at the board, eyes flicking down the lists. Sebastian doesn’t take offence. Some people don’t function properly this early. He waits patiently, taking this opportunity to observe the man properly. Everything about him is dark. His ebony hair, his big brown eyes, the sharp, crisp suit he’s clad in. He’s slim beneath the attire. Sebastian can tell by the way the buttoned jacket curves in at his waist. His eyes have the slightest hint of shadow beneath them, as if he hadn’t slept well. There’s a scatter of stubble along his jaw. The tip of his tongue slides out to wet his lips and Sebastian doesn’t realise he’s staring until the man speaks.

“Vanilla latte to go.”

It takes him a moment to stir in to action. He had underestimated how attractive the man was at first glance, only coming to appreciate it the longer he looks. Tearing his gaze away, Sebastian sets about making his drink. He smiles when he hands it over, accepting the note Jim carelessly tosses at him. Their hands brush when he hands back the change.

“Have a good day.”

Jim makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, picking up the briefcase he’d sat by his feet and turning for the door. He takes a deep sip of his coffee as he leaves, and that’s the last Sebastian can see of him before he disappears back into the London streets.

*

The next time Sebastian sees him is two days later, around about the same time in the morning. This time John is out with him. He’s arranging the cakes under their glass casing while Sebastian idly dries a mug. He’s been lazily rubbing the cloth into it for the last four minutes, day dreaming more so than focusing on the task. The sound of the door makes him glance up, and before John can move he’s set the cup in place and is sliding past him. Had any one else entered he would have let John serve them. He is closer, after all.

“Hello.”

Jim doesn’t even glance up, poking through his wallet as he orders the same drink as before. Vanilla latte. Sebastian hides his disappointment, making the drink and setting it on the counter. Jim’s attention has now been drawn by the trays John has just finished arranging. He looks at them for a few moments before ordering a chocolate chip muffin and sliding money across the counter. Sebastian watches him pull off a piece of muffin and plop it into his mouth as he counts out his change. He hands it across. His fingers brush Jim’s palm.

“Have a nice day.”

This time he gets a mumbled ‘mhm’ around a mouthful of muffin before Jim disappears out the door.

“Someone’s smitten,” John comments with a sly little grin, folding his arms and leaning a hip against the counter. Sebastian glances at him, expression innocently confused.

“I saw the way you leapt over me to serve him.”

“You were doing something.”

John just continues to smile knowingly.

*

Sebastian’s wiping down the counter the third time he sees Jim. It’s Friday of the next week, and he’d been beginning to think the man wasn’t for coming back. It’s just after four, the after work rush lingering close but not quite there. He breezes in, head held high and confident, briefcase swinging by his side. He’s whistling some upbeat poppy tune as he slows to a stop by the counter, flashing Sebastian a bright smile. If his stomach tingles slightly he decides to ignore it.

“Why hello there. I was going to order a coffee, but now I’m wondering if I can have you to go.” Jim’s smile remains firmly in place, eyes flicking to meet and hold Sebastian’s gaze. He’s slightly taken aback by the forwardness of the remark, but easily returns the smile, leaning forward with his elbows on the counter.

“Coffee I can do, but I’m afraid I’m stuck here until six.” He gives a little half shrug and Jim seems delighted that he’s playing along. “Vanilla latte?”

Jim’s expression turns to mild curiosity now, slightly impressed that the barista – Sebastian, that’s what it says on his name tag – has managed to recall what drink he gets when he’s only served him twice (despite his sleep addled brain he still recalls the deep, soothing tone of his voice). He leans closer, catching the spicy scent of his cologne among the smell of ground coffee beans. Now that he’s more awake he can properly observe him.

Tall, slim but muscular, shaggy light brown hair, sunkissed skin and grey-blue eyes. Military man (he can see the chain of his tags disappearing beneath his shirt, added with the tan and the way he holds himself), callouses on his fingers suggest he worked mainly with guns. Rifles. Sniper? Dishonourably discharged. Oh, interesting. Comes from an upper class family but views the life style with distaste. Intelligent. Educated. Likes to work with his hands. Clearly interested in him. Oh yes, he can definitely have some fun with this one.

“Not this time, ‘Bastian. Think I’ll go with a chai tea.”

The only response Sebastian gives to the shortened form of his name is a slightly raised eyebrow. He goes about making the tea while Jim observes the sandwich selection. He’d been distracted with a case and ended up missing lunch that morning. He picks out a chicken wrap and sets it on the counter as he watches Sebastian go about making the tea.

“Not going to ask my name?”

“That wouldn’t be very professional of me.”

“Bor-ring!”

Sebastian chuckles, carefully pouring the tea into a cup.

“Go on, then. Enlighten me. What’s your name?”

“Jim Moriarty. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but the pleasure’s all yours.”

“Cocky little thing, aren’t you?” Sebastian sets the cup in front of him, pale eyes meeting his dark ones. Jim grins at the comment, tongue sliding out to slowly draw across his lips. Once again Sebastian finds his eyes following the movement.

“You’re practically drooling, dear. Not very professional.” Jim makes a disapproving little ‘tsk’ sound, clicking his tongue against the top of his mouth, but the smile curling his lips shows that he’s only teasing.

“If I asked for your number would that also be unprofessional?” Sebastian asks as he counts out Jim’s change. He doesn’t know where the sudden moment of daring courage comes from, but at least if Jim says no he can laugh it off. As it is, Jim’s smile just widens.

“You have to earn it. I’ll decide when you deserve it.”

With that he moves away to sit at a table by the window. This time he hums to himself as he moves, hips swaying ever so slightly. Sebastian thinks the tune is Michael Jackson’s _Billie Jean_ , but he can’t be sure. He watches Jim shimmy away, ass not nearly as defined as he’d like it to be in his suit trousers. He’s attractive, yes, but there’s something else about the dark haired man that has Sebastian enthralled. He shakes his head, clearing that thought and turning away before Jim catches him staring.

It’s quiet for five minutes, during which Sebastian returns to cleaning the counters, before a steady trickle of customers starts up. John appears just after half past, smiling and mumbling an apology to Sebastian. They usually take shifts between the quiet lulls and work the busy periods together.

“Sherlock dragged me along on one of his cases,” John explains, hurrying to the back room and pulling on his apron. He ties it behind his back as he comes back out to the front. “Think he just wanted someone to agree with everything he said.”

“That’s alright, it wasn’t too busy anyway.” Sebastian passes a middle aged woman a handful of change with a pleasant smile. She gives him a little nod before disappearing out of the shop. Jim’s still sitting by the window. He’s got headphones in now and has his phone set beside him on the table, flicking at it with one hand as he holds his wrap with the other.

“Oh. Is that who I think it is?” John’s caught sight of Jim, and his voice takes a suggestive turn. He nudges Sebastian with his elbow.

“I don’t know. Who do you think it is?”

John rolls his eyes at Sebastian’s attempt at evasiveness, stepping forward to take a young couple’s order. Sebastian helps him make the coffee, and John doesn’t approach the topic again until the counter is free from costumers once more.

“Oh come on, I can see you giving him the eye.”

“I’m not.” Sebastian scowls slightly. He’s been very pointedly not looking at Jim (except for stealing sly glances at him from the corner of his eyes every minute or so). Jim’s finished his tea by this point. He slips his phone into his pocket, sliding back and rising from his chair in one fluid, graceful movement. He heads towards the door, twirling before he reaches it to blow a kiss in Sebastian’s direction.

“Bye ‘Bastian,” he sing-songs.

John arches an eyebrow, giving Sebastian a very pointed look. Sebastian scowls in return, although he can’t muster any real malice behind it. Within seconds his annoyed façade crumbles and he grins, bumping John out of the way with his hip as he passes.

“Before you say anything, shut up.”

John laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

“I've seen your favourite customer in a few times,” John informs him midway through the next week.

“Who's that then?”

“You know. The little dark haired one in the fancy suits.”

“Jim.”

“What?”

“His name is Jim,” Sebastian clarifies. John gives him one of those smug, knowing looks that Sebastian's starting to tire of.

“Jim, is it?”

“Yes, I did just say that.”

“Alright, no need to get touchy. He tends to linger. I think he's been looking for you.”

Sebastian tries to disguise how ridiculously pleased this makes him.

John leaves at seven. It's one of their late nights, but the shop tends to die down after six. Molly's in working the bookshop tonight. Sebastian likes her. She's pretty, quiet and smart. Irene, the other bookshop cashier, is also smart and undeniably sexy, but unlike Molly she likes to make her presence known and flirts like it's going out of style. Sebastian likes them both, but he's got a soft spot for Molly.

“Bit dead tonight, isn't it?” She gives him an awkward little smile, wandering across from her side of the shop. Despite the fact they've known each other for a month now she still acts nervous around him. He thinks it's a bit adorable, to be honest.

“Wednesday's always dead, I don't even know why we bother staying open.”

He makes her her usual drink and sits it on the counter before she gets the opportunity to ask. She flushes a bit and accepts the cup with that same smile. Cradling her cup in her hands, Molly stays by the counter to chat with Sebastian until one of the stragglers wanders in off the street. At the sound of the bell tinkling above the door she promptly disappears to her counter again. Sebastian turns to face the customer with a smile.

At first he doesn't recognise him. Stripped of his suit, Jim looks a lot softer and a good bit younger. He's clad in a purple cardigan and a pair of faded jeans that Sebastian is willing to bet are some ridiculously over priced designer brand. Padding across the shop, Jim all but beams at him.

“Hello again.”

Every time they meet and Jim first speaks, Sebastian gets a pleasant little shock. Despite his efforts he's never able to effectively memorise the purr of his words, the way the Dublin accent curls around them, makes even the simplest of sentences sound entirely seductive. Sebastian grins in response.

“My favourite customer.”

“Oh Sebastian, such flattery. Is everyone who passes through that door met with your charm?”

“Only a select few.”

“And there I thought I was special.” Jim feigns a pout, but his eyes are bright with amusement. He places his palms on the counter, leaning forward as he glances up at a drinks menu he already has memorised. Sebastian uses the opportunity to steal a glance at the delicious stretch of skin available. Beneath the cardigan Jim has on a form hugging v-neck that not only reveals a gorgeous line of neck, but also a teasing hint of chest. Jim returns his gaze to Sebastian and raises one questioning eyebrow.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Can't complain.”

That gets him a grin in response before Jim bites his lip in a way that looks like a casual gesture but is completely planned and entirely seductive. Sebastian's eyes track the movement before he blinks and forces them back to Jim's eyes. Jim gives him a little smile that shows he knows exactly what he's thinking.

“So, what will it be tonight? Coffee? Tea?” Sebastian places his own hands on the counter, leaning forward slightly, mirroring Jim as he waits for his answer. Jim stares into his eyes for a moment, as if considering what way he wants Sebastian rather than what drink he wants. Sebastian swallows at that thought. No, he scolds himself. Head out of the gutter.

“Hmm. Think I'll have a hot chocolate this time.”

“Sitting in or..?”

“Think I'll stay and keep you company, yeah.” Jim grins, eyebrows raising slightly. Sebastian tries to hide his smile, he really does, but it just sort of consumes his face without his permission. He turns his back to Jim, going about making his hot chocolate.  
  
“Marshmallows?”

“Why of course.” Jim picks at some of the leaflets sitting on the counter, reading about a market fair and a few local gigs. Dull. He sets them back down, humming and watching the way Sebastian's shoulder blades shift beneath his shirt as he moves. He pretends to be idly glancing out the window when Sebastian turns around, only looking up once he's set the cup on the counter. Jim counts out the right change and hands it to him. He leans forward on the counter, showing no sign of moving to a table.

“So. 'Bastian.”

“Jim.”

Jim grins, using his spoon to scoop melted marshmallows from the top of his hot chocolate. He pops them in his mouth, sucking the spoon clean and smirking around it, holding Sebastian's eyes the whole time. Flirtatious little shit. Sebastian smiles, tilting his head as if waiting for a response.

“Was that your girlfriend you were talking to before I came in?” It wasn't. Jim already knows this.

“I hardly would have asked you for your number if I had a girlfriend.”

“It's nearly been a week. Things might have changed.”

“She's not my girlfriend.”

Jim grins. Good answer. He takes a sip of his drink, licking whipped cream from his upper lip. That wasn't even planned and yet Sebastian's eyes flick to his lips, following the movement. It's so easy sometimes. Jim makes idle chit chat, asking Sebastian questions he already knows the answers to from observation, and answering a few in response. The barista is honest with him. He appreciates that. Not that you can really lie to Jim, anyway. That's what makes him such a good lawyer. He can see right through people.

There's only one customer that comes in through the duration of their conversation. While Sebastian's busy with them, Jim scribbles his number onto the napkin and hides it beneath the saucer. He finishes his drink and sets the cup on top of the saucer, giving Sebastian a sly little smile.

“See you around, 'Bastian.”

Sebastian glances up from his position at the counter, frowning slightly.

“You're away?”

“That would be why I'm saying bye, yes.” Jim shifts out of the man at the counter's line of vision, blowing a kiss to Sebastian from behind his back. “Byee~.”

He's gone before Sebastian can reply. Sebastian hands the man his change with a false smile, waiting until he's retreated before frowning slightly. He doesn't understand why Jim suddenly disappeared so quickly. He thought they were getting on. It's only when he lifts his cup to wash it that he notices the note scribbled onto the napkin.

_Call me soon. - JM x_


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian calls Jim the next evening. He thinks to himself that he probably should hold out longer, but he can't help it. There's something enthralling about Jim and he wants to see the other man as soon as he can. The phone rings three times before he answers. Sebastian's stomach jerks at the sound of his voice.

“'Bastian.” It's practically a purr down the line.

“How'd you know it was me?”

“Educated guess. I haven't handed my number out to anyone else lately and my phone would recognise anyone who already has it.”

“Ah.” Stupid question. He should have known Jim would know. There's a gap of silence before Jim speaks again.

“So, where are you taking me?” There's undertones of amusement to his voice.

“Presumptuous of you to think I'm taking you anywhere.”

“Please, sweetheart, you didn't call me the day after I leave my number solely for a little chat. Just don't be boring, all right? And no more coffee.”

Sebastian chuckles at that, low and warm.

“Yeah, okay. No more coffee. I'm in the early shift tomorrow so... How's seven sound?”

“Seven's perfect, darling.”

“Great. Give me your address and I'll come meet you?” Sebastian scrambles for a pen and the stack of sticky notes he keeps by the fridge. He quickly scribbles down Jim's address, smiling. “Right, so, I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“Don't be late. I can't stand when people are late. Although I do make a habit of being fashionably late myself.”

“I won't be late.” Sebastian smiles, giving a little shake of his head even though Jim can't see him.

“Then I look forward to it. Good night, Bastian.”

“Night, Jim.”

The next day, Sebastian's nervous all through work. He keeps getting distracted by the thought of Jim and is practically shaking with restless energy. Despite this, his mood is soaring. He hums and shimmies about behind the counter, dancing to whatever cheery pop music Molly has on. John comes in before lunch and after the first five minutes of such behaviour shoots him an odd glance.

“You're awfully happy today.”

“Why shouldn't I be? It's a beautiful day.”

“It's mid-September and bloody freezing. What's got into you, then?”

Sebastian doesn't answer, humming as he straightens the trays. John steps closer, leaning against the counter beside Sebastian and looking pointedly at him for an answer. Sebastian glances up at him innocently.

“Yes?”

“Well, go on then. Spill. Something has clearly happened that you're happy about.”

“Oh, it's nothing big.” Sebastian pulls a tea towel from under the counter and begins rubbing down the top of it. “Just have a date tonight.”

John grins, his interest immediately doubling as he leans forward.

“Ah, is it who I think it is?”

“That depends on who you think it is.”

“A certain regular you tend to have a soft spot for. Jim, was it?”

“Could be.”

John's grin widens, and he gives Sebastian a slap on the back.

“Good on you.”

Sebastian shrugs John off and tells him to give over, but that doesn't stop him grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day. When his shift is over, John wishes him luck. Sebastian flips him off and hurries home to get cleaned up. He spends a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to wear, finally settling on a navy button down shirt and a pair of jeans. He lands at Jim's fifteen minutes early and is still feeling beyond nervous when he rings the buzzer.

“Why hello,” Jim says when the door swings open, eyes dragging down over Sebastian's form. “Don't you scrub up well? Come on up, I'll be ready shortly.”

Jim leads the way up to the seventh floor, letting Sebastian in to a spacious, open plan flat, the far wall dominated by floor to ceiling windows.

“Wow.” Sebastian looks around in awe. Jim glances back at him over his shoulder, throwing him a little smile.

“My humble abode. Make yourself at home.”

Jim disappears down the hall and Sebastian walks into the living room, admiring the place. It's stylish and modern, and suits Jim to the ground. He sinks into the couch, not exactly sure what to do with himself while he waits. When Jim appears again, his hair has been ruffled up so it's elegantly disheveled and undeniably sexy, and he's pulled on a leather jacket over his plum v-neck and dark jeans that hug him in all the right places. Sebastian admires him, finding it difficult to believe he got this lucky.

“Aren't you going to tell me I look nice?” Jim raises an eyebrow expectantly.

Sebastian clears his throat, tearing his eyes from Jim only briefly before looking back at him once again.

“You look gorgeous.”

Jim grins, clearly pleased with this response, and pads across the living room to kiss Sebastian's cheek.

“That's all for now. Show me a good time and you'll get a proper kiss later.” He winks, and Sebastian feels himself relax. Jim is all obvious confidence and flirtatious energy, but Sebastian feels more at ease with him than he does with most people. Especially since he got back from the war.

He takes Jim to an Italian restaurant. It's busy, but the tables are small and spaced out, giving it an intimate feel, and it's run by actual Italians. The food is good and the lights are dim, candles melting in wine bottles on each table. They make small talk over their glasses of wine, and Jim hasn't stopped smiling yet, so Sebastian assumes he's done alright.

“So,” Jim says between mouthfuls of pasta. “You were in the army.”

Sebastian freezes with his own fork halfway to his mouth, automatically tensing at the mention of it. He never mentioned that. He doesn't think John would have, either. Slowly, he lowers his fork and shoots Jim a quizzical glance.

“I notice things,” Jim explains, and Sebastian can read his bored tone as a defense mechanism, as if he thinks Sebastian is going to turn against him. “The way you hold yourself, your tags under your shirt, the callouses on your finger. Sniper, yes? And you were a high rank. Seems a bit odd you ended up working in a coffee shop. Bit of a step down. Why did they send you home? You don't seem to have any obvious injuries.”

Sebastian frowns, glancing down at the table. It's not a comfortable topic for him. He pokes at his food as a distraction to give him more time before setting his fork down completely and looking across at Jim. The other man doesn't seem bothered by Sebastian's silence. He's looking back at him, dark eyes wide with interest.

“They thought I was a bit trigger happy.”

“Were you?”

“It's- I did what I had to. We were out in a group one day. I was in charge of them. One boy, and he was, he was a boy, the youngest of us, still eighteen... He got injured. The others wanted to bring him back with us, but I knew he was never going to make it. He'd only hold us back and we'd lose more men on the journey.”

“So you shot him?”

Sebastian looks away, unable to look at Jim as he nods.

“I did what I had to do. Better to lose one man than five.”

“So they sent you home.”

“They wanted me to retire. Thought the stress of it all had got to me. Said I'd been out there long enough.”

“But you refused, and so they discharged you.”

“Yeah. Stuck me in counselling. That's how I ended up at the coffee shop. My therapist is John's therapist. She thought getting out and being among people would do me good. John seemed to be doing well, and she said at least I'd be working with someone who had the same experiences.”

Jim nods, but says nothing. The silence stretches. Sebastian fiddles with his hands, feeling vulnerable and self conscious.

“I understand if you want to break it off now,” he finally blurts out. Anything to break the silence.

“Why would I want to do a thing like that?”

“I- Some people aren't comfortable knowing- Well.”

“That you've killed someone? Isn't that the whole point of the war? What does it matter who's on the other side of the gun? Besides, you had good reason. If anything, it was a mercy kill.”

Sebastian tilts his head, examining Jim with fresh curiosity. That is not the response he was expecting, but he feels the the dizzying rush of relief. Jim doesn't care. Jim isn't disgusted by him. Jim still wants to be here.

“You'll have to show me your uniform sometime. I bet you look delicious in it.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian laughs. “Sure. If you want.”

Jim suggests they walk back afterwards, so Sebastian walks him home and offers him his jacket when Jim tugs his own tighter around him. Jim accepts it without complaint, and Sebastian appreciates that. Jim takes what he wants and doesn't apologise for it. He's not like some of the girls Sebastian has been out with who pretend to argue before giving in. Jim just lets Sebastian slide it over his shoulders and rewards him with a smile before taking his hand. Sebastian's stomach flutters in response.

Sebastian asks Jim about his work as they walk, and Jim chatters on cheerily for a bit before seeming to get bored with the conversation and tugging Sebastian down for a sudden kiss. It catches him off guard and he nearly topples into Jim. It's nothing special, just a hard press of mouth on mouth that's over almost as quick as it began. Jim walks on as if nothing had happened, picking up the conversation where he left off and tugging Sebastian along.

He only releases Sebastian's hand when they reach the flat, spinning to face him. Sebastian smiles down at him, the street lamps exaggerating the shadows on Jim's face and making his eyes look black. His tongue slides out to wet his lips, something Sebastian has observed as a frequent habit.

“Well, Sebastian, I certainly had a looovely night.”

“I'm glad.” Sebastian takes a daring step forward, setting his hands on Jim's hips. Jim tilts his head back so he can continue to hold Sebastian's gaze, looking rather pleased by this move. “Does that mean I can see you again?”

Jim pretends to contemplate, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully.

“I suppose.” He bounces up on his toes, capturing Sebastian's lips for longer this time before sliding backwards out of his hold. He tugs the jacket. “I'm keeping this. If you're lucky I might give it back later.”

Sebastian laughs, too pleased with the whole night to care about his jacket. Jim gives him a little wave after he's stepped inside the door.

“Oh. 'Bastian?”

“Yeah?”

“What rank were you?”

“Colonel. I was a Colonel.”

“Good night, Colonel.” Jim grins, and Sebastian feels a pleasant rush at hearing his title fall from Jim's lips in that gorgeous little accent.

“Night, Jim.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

The next day Sebastian has the pleasure, if it could be called that, of meeting John's flatmate and Mycroft's younger brother.

“He's a detective,” John had told him. “Well, er, sort of. Consulting detective. That's what he calls himself. Helps the police out on tricky cases, but I told him he has to get a ruddy job and help me with the rent.”

John and Sherlock reside in one of the flats above the shop. It's part of how John got the job in the first place, as Mrs Hudson is both their landlady and owner of the shop, and it's pretty much the only reason Sherlock manages to keep his job. Between the three of them, Mycroft, John and Mrs Hudson had managed to talk him into bringing the new deliveries of books in every fortnight. Simple enough. Or it should have been.

Sebastian doesn't recognise him when Sherlock first struts in, coat collar folded up against his pale cheekbones, blue scarf the only splash of colour between his dark clothes and white skin.

“John- Oh, you're not. Hm, military, you're the one he mentioned then. He left out the fact you were discharged.”

Sebastian blinks in confusion, lips still slightly parted and the question of 'What can I get you?' dying in his throat. How does everyone suddenly seem to know about his discharge? He closes his mouth into a hard, angry line.

“I could explain, but I haven't got time. Ah, John!”

John appears from the kitchen when he hears Sherlock's voice. He pauses, looking between the two men, noting the tension in Sebastian's shoulders.

“What has he said now?”

“That's not of importance.” Sherlock moves around the counter, catching John's upper arm. “I brought the boxes and there are too many of them. It's going to take several trips. I need you to carry them.”

“Why can't you carry them?”

“Boring.”

“Sherlock, I'm working!”

“Technically, this is also work that requires done in your establishment of employment.”

“Sherlock!”

Sebastian watches the exchange with mild interest, feeling a bit less irked now that he realises Sherlock seems to be a prick to everyone. He can't help the anger that creeps along beneath his skin though. It's instinctive. It's what he's been working on in counselling.

Sherlock continues to stare now at John, expression unwavering. John sighs heavily.

“I'll help you carry them in, but you have to at least carry some.”

Sherlock seems to consider this offer before giving a curt little nod. In between serving two customers Sebastian watches them. Sherlock brings in a grand total of two boxes, walking at a snail's pace, in comparison to John's ten. He hides his smile when Sherlock glances up, but apparently he doesn't hide it quick enough.

“If you find it so amusing then you can help next time. I'm sure we'll get it done twice as quick then.” He lifts a paper napkin, not looking at Sebastian as he speaks, folding it into an origami swan. When he sets it down the head sags, the napkin not firm enough to keep its shape.

Sebastian bites back a retort. Take a breath, calm down, they've talked about this. Claire, his therapist, and him.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft's voice is so seldom heard that it takes Sebastian a moment to realise who's speaking when he drawls his brother's name. His presence out front is even more rare. The only time Sebastian's ever seen him appear is on the occasions when the silver haired DI stops in. Both him and John turn from their respective places to watch the exchange.

“Brother.” Sherlock's voice is flat and uninterested. He flicks his swan along the counter.

“You realise the whole concept of having a job is that you are paid for doing as you have been requested.”

“In your case, does that include eating half of the stock?”

Mycroft flushes ever so slightly, but it's enough to be noticeable. John and Sebastian share a look across the shop, simultaneously afraid to laugh while barely able to conceal it.

“If your behaviour does not begin to pick up, I can and will have you fired.”

“You're the one who requested I begin the job in the first place,” Sherlock replies, a sullen tone to his voice now. Mycroft releases an annoyed huff of air in retort.

“You're behaving childishly.”

“Come now, girls, you're going to start scaring off the customers.” John steps between them, placing himself as a physical intervention in their argument. They hear Irene's amused laughter from across the shop. She's clearly enjoying this.

Sherlock doesn't respond, giving his swan another flick before crumpling it and moving to drop it in the bin. He draws a pair of keys from his pocket, swirling them round his fingers.

“I'd best return the van to the garage then. Laters.” He leaves before any of them can answer.

With Sherlock's depart, Mycroft returns silently to the kitchen. He's got a few things in the oven, but he's currently going over the receipts of the last week, his Saturday routine. John moves back in behind the counter again, giving Sebastian an apologetic look.

“Sorry about him, bit of a tosser at times.”

“That's alright.” Sebastian grins, giving John a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Just glad you're landed with him instead of me.”

 *

Sebastian doesn't particularly care for his flat. It's just a couple of rooms where he keeps his few belongings, full of Ikea furniture that was all he could afford. There's always a strange sadness that seems to linger when he comes back after a shift to his empty rooms, which is unusual, for Sebastian has never had a problem being alone before. Since he's come back, though, he's had a strong dislike for most people and yet a lingering loneliness when he's by himself in his cheap little flat.

He has a shower when he returns, taking his time beneath the flow of hot water, indulging in the luxury of it. He scrubs his body thoroughly and spoils himself by massaging shampoo into his hair for a good five minutes before rinsing it out. After the cold, quick bursts of water he had to endure to remove desert sand from every inch of his body (although they rarely did), a proper shower seems like a real treat now.

When he's done, he towels off and tugs on a pair of loose shorts. He's ruffling his damp hair and considering what to make for dinner when his phone vibrates. He sighs quietly, wondering if it's John looking for him to cover another shift. Not that he minds too terribly. He'd helped through the busy after work rush, not getting home himself until just after six, but it's not like he has much else to do. Much to his surprise, however, the message turns out to be from Jim's number.

_Would it be considered rash if I were to request your company again so soon? -JM_

Sebastian grins, about to type out a reply that no, no, not at all, Jim should definitely do that, when another text comes through.

_Oh, sod it anyway. Mine, Chinese takeaway, wine and a film? -JM_

_Sounds great. I'll be there soon. -SM_

Jim's already ordered food by the time Sebastian arrives, half the menu seeming to be laid out on the table.

“I didn't know what you wanted, so I ordered a bit of everything,” he explains. He's painfully adorable tonight, having padded to the door in socks, pyjama bottoms and a baggy, wrinkled t-shirt. “I would have made more effort, but your invitation was a last minute decision.”

Sebastian had curled an arm around his slim waist and pulled him in for a kiss, lips lingering together for a moment. Jim still looks tired, as if he hasn't slept well in ages, and his hair is ruffled like he's been running his hands through it all day. As stunning as he looks in a well cut suit, and as gorgeous as he is in well fitting v-necks, it's this Jim that Sebastian could really get used to seeing. He has a feeling very few people do.

Jim pads around and gets plates and cutlery out while Sebastian pours their wine and examines the boxes. They move around each other in Jim's kitchen, which is at least twice the size of Sebastian's and a lot more modern, with a comfortable ease that makes it feel familiar. Like they've done this countless times. Never once do their paths cross or do they bump into each other. Jim half fills his plate with an assortment of things, examining it before giving a nod. Sebastian, who hadn't got a chance to eat when he got home, tries a bit of everything.

“Did you just order half of the menu and that's all your eating?” he asks, looking across the island that stands in the center of the kitchen at Jim.

“My appetite's unpredictable.” He explains it in the same tone he told Sebastian he notices things, as if he expects to be attacked for it. “Some days I can't manage much. If I want any more I'll take it.”

Sebastian just gives a little nod, storing that information away for later. Jim brightens a bit after that, pleased Sebastian didn't make a fuss. The sit side by side as they eat, and Jim actually ends up going back for a smaller portion of seconds. Together they go through half a bottle of wine with their meal and after the first half hour of the film they're both pleasantly full and drowsy. Sebastian lounges against the sofa, one arm slung along the back of it, almost but not quite around Jim's shoulders. Once Jim finishes his last mouthful of wine he collects their plates.

“Do you need a hand?” Sebastian tilts his head back to look up at Jim, who ruffles his hair as he passes.

“I'm just going to leave them to steep.” He fills the sink with warm soapy water and abandons the plates in it. While he's up he puts the boxes of spare food into the fridge. Before returning to the couch he makes a detour to click the lights off, the only illumination in the room now the flickering of the television. On his return he flops down onto Sebastian, pushing him until he takes the hint and lies down. Jim sprawls across his chest almost possessively, tilting his head up in silent request for a kiss.

This one is slightly more passionate than their previous kisses. Sebastian risks stroking his tongue along Jim's lower lip, and Jim's lips willing part for him. He feels a tingle of electric excitement shoot through his stomach as their tongues brush for the first time. He hasn't felt like this about anyone since he was a teenager, can barely remember this jittery, anxious excitement. They continue to kiss slow and languidly for several long minutes before Jim moves back. He gives Sebastian a sleepy smile, presses one last, quick kiss to his lips and settles on his chest.

Sebastian slowly lowers his arm down around Jim's shoulders. His hand settles on Jim's back, fingers trailing up along the length of his spine. Jim releases a content sigh that's almost too quiet to hear, nuzzling closer without even realising. Within fifteen minutes he's asleep. Sebastian's drifting at the edge of consciousness, but not quite gone yet. Part of him says he should just let himself drift off so he can spend longer with Jim, but he's knows it's impolite to stay uninvited.

“Jim,” he murmurs, giving the smaller man a shake. Jim lets out a soft whine, attempting to press closer to him. “Jim, c'mon. Wake up.”

Jim's eyes finally slide open into hazy slits, and he blinks blearily at Sebastian. His lips part as if he's going to speak but his words are lost in a long yawn. It's the only time Sebastian's seen him look even vaguely lost. Usually his eyes are sharp, intelligent, calculating.

“Wha' d'ya wake me for?” It's clear Jim is struggling to wake fully, but his mind can't quite manage it.

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Sebastian chuckles, low and warm. “I have to go home.”

“No.” Jim's refusal is solid, as if there is no room to argue. He's used to getting what he wants. “Stay here.”

“Jiiim.”

“I insist.” Jim stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table. It's such a huge change, but it's highly endearing. Sebastian follows, hands on Jim's hips steadying him.

“TV.”

Sebastian takes the hint and turns the television off. Now the only light is the dim colours of the city lights cast through the thin curtains drawn across the wall length windows. After a few seconds Sebastian's eyes adjust and it's just enough to see by. He settles his hands on Jim's hips again, allowing Jim to lead him through the flat. Jim pops into the bathroom, glaring at the harsh light and his reflection as he brushes his teeth. Sebastian waits outside the door until he's finished, then takes Jim through and tucks him into bed.

“G'night, Jim.” He presses a kiss to his forehead.

Even in the dark he can see Jim's eyes fly open. A hand shoots forward and catches his wrist, surprisingly strong as it tugs him forward.

“Get in the bed. Now.”

A shiver runs along Sebastian's spine at the tone of authority in that voice, not entirely sure how he feels about it. On one hand it's like being back in the desert, all orders and obedience. On the other hand, _hot damn_.

He kicks off his jeans and folds them by the bottom of the bed, crawling in beside Jim in boxers and his t-shirt. Jim shifts back against him, tugging Seb's arm around his waist. His legs reach back to pull one of Sebastian's between them. Clearly content with this position, Jim goes still, breathing evening out within five minutes. Careful not to wake him, Sebastian shifts closer and presses a feather light kiss to the back of his neck.

Now that he has Jim, perhaps he won't be as lonely any more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit of a sudden turn. Mentions of attempted suicide/self harm. If that's triggering you may want to proceed with caution.

Sebastian wakes early in the morning, his body used to the routine of rising for his usual run. They've shifted in the night, Jim now facing him, cheek on Seb's shoulder and breathing quietly in his sleep, mouth half open. He smiles at the sight of him, gently easing him off so he can slip out of the bed. Jim lets out a soft little sound, but settles almost immediately into the pillow, not awake enough to fully comprehend Sebastian's absence.

He makes a quick trip to the bathroom to piss and splash water on his face. He gurgles some toothpaste with water around in his mouth in an attempt to get rid of the dry, cottony taste sleep has left along his tongue. If he had of known he was staying, he would have brought his toothbrush. Stretching out, he examines his bed hair in the mirror and shakes his head, deciding to leave it. He doesn't want to leave before Jim wakes, so he decides he can live without a run for one day and crawls back in beside him. He never lets himself have a lie in, so it's a nice rarity. He curls his arm around Jim, who immediately shuffles into his previous position, an arm laying across Seb's stomach as he cuddles up to him in his sleep.

Yeah, Sebastian thinks to himself as he starts to drift off again. He could definitely get used to this.

*

When he wakes again it's almost ten, and wow, okay, he hadn't meant to sleep that long. Jim is still asleep, but they're now spooning like they were last night. Seemingly in their unconscious state neither of them had wanted to break the physical contact. Sebastian presses a kiss to Jim's shoulder and slips out of the bed again. This time he earns himself a whine of protest, Jim starting to stir.

“I'm just going to make tea,” he assures him in a hushed tone, crouching by Jim's side of the bed. “Or would you prefer coffee?”

Jim's eyes open into tired slits.

“Tea. Milk, three sugars.”

Sebastian smiles and can't help but kiss Jim's nose. He's so cute when he's sleepy, so different from the calm, controlled lawyer or the flirty, playful Jim he's met so far. He returns minutes later with two cups, setting one on Jim's bedside table and then returning to his side, sitting with his back against the headboard.

“I hope you don't mind that I stayed. You wouldn't let me leave.” He's not sure if Jim remembers clutching onto him in his half asleep haze.

Jim, who has shuffled across the bed and is now nuzzling against Sebastian's hip (affectionate when sleepy, Sebastian stores that detail away in his mind), gazes up at him with lidded eyes.

“I would have been offended if you hadn't of.” He nudges the bottom of Sebastian's t-shirt up with his nose and presses a kiss to the side of his stomach, before pausing and tugging the shirt up a bit further. Sebastian tenses. It's not that he's self conscious or anything, the army will stamp that out of you, he's just unsure how to react to this.

“Well, aren't you _gorgeous_ ,” Jim breathes, admiring both the muscles shifting beneath the skin of Sebastian's stomach and the scars littering his torso. Oh, this one was definitely a good decision. Jim traces one of the more obvious scars with the tip of his fingers, then a few of the smaller ones, before shifting away. “I must get better acquainted with them sometime.”

Sebastian feels a rush of sudden heat at the implications of Jim's words, the dark promise held within his tone. Oh, yes, he'd definitely be alright with that. Then Jim is sliding away, lifting his cup and taking a cautious sip. He hums, pleased, Sebastian having made it just the way he likes it. He might keep this one around for a while.

Sebastian doesn't bother to break their silence with meaningless words. It's comfortable, and Jim seems content to just sit with their arms pressed together, sipping his tea. After he disappears to the bathroom for a while, they have leftover Chinese for breakfast, Jim insisting he'll never eat it himself if it's left in the fridge. Sebastian leaves not long after, Jim pinning him to the door frame and kissing him in a way that leaves him desperate for more.

*

Sebastian doesn't see Jim much throughout the week. They text back and forth, and meet up for lunch once, but Jim is busy with work and Sebastian's shifts are forever changing due to Sherlock keeping John awake to all hours or dragging him off to a case. He apologises profusely, promises to make it up to Sebastian somehow, but Sebastian doesn't mind too much. It keeps him out of the flat.

He comes back one evening to see Jim standing outside his door.

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways.” Jim's in his casual clothes and soaked through. He looks miserable, the circles beneath his eyes darker than Sebastian's ever seen them, and once Sebastian gets them inside, he notices Jim's sharp eyes are slightly out of focus.

“Are you okay?”

“I wanted the pain to stop, so I kept taking them.” He licks his lips, tilting his head and staring up at Sebastian blankly. “They didn't make it stop, so I came to find you. You help sometimes. You make it go away.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jim!” Sebastian is not prepared for this. Not at all. He's never seen him like this. Jim's always so confident, so sure of himself, Sebastian could never have guessed anything like this lay beneath the surface. “What did you take?”

“Lots of different ones.” Jim gives him a small smile, but his eyes are beginning to water up. “Am I going to die, Sebastian? I don't want to die. I just wanted it to stop hurting.”

Sebastian does the only thing he can think of. He drags Jim through his flat, his embarrassment at how lacking it is in comparison to Jim's own little palace replaced with worry. When they reach the bathroom he forces Jim to his knees, and Jim is strangely submissive for someone who usually craves to dominate. Sebastian kneels beside him, bending him over the loo and forcing his fingers down his throat. It's not exactly gentle, but he doesn't know what Jim's taken and it's safer this way. Hopefully. Maybe. Jesus, should he call John? He's the doctor, not Sebastian.

He wriggles his fingers until he sets off Jim's gag reflex. He throws up mostly fluids, clearly not having eaten much today. Sebastian repeats the process several times until Jim is coughing and gagging as stomach acid burns his throat.

“S'enough,” he gasps, batting Sebastian's hand away. “S'ok.”

Sebastian is used to working under pressure, and thus has been running on adrenaline. This fades now, and he leans back against the sink, letting out a shaky breath. He wants to shout at Jim. Wants to shake him and ask him what the fuck he's playing at, but there's a string of saliva down his chin and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Sebastian can't bring himself to upset him any further.

He washes off his hands and then cleans up Jim's face, before stripping him off. Jim lets him move his limbs around like a doll, shifting obediently, but otherwise remaining motionless. Sebastian strips down himself and gets into the shower with him. Probably better not to leave Jim alone. Despite the fact that this is the first time they've seen each other bare, there's little intimacy to it. Sebastian is working methodically, professionally, and Jim is too lost inside his head to care.

Sebastian rubs his hands over Jim's shoulders, helping the flow of water warm his icy skin. As he's washing him, he notices the scars on Jim's body. Some are long healed, others look just barely closed over, and there's a fresh couple along his thighs. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, hard knot.

“Do you do this to yourself?”

Jim looks at him blankly for a long second, then nods.

“Why?”

“Makes it hurt less inside.”

That's the only reply Jim will give, and Sebastian doesn't push him for more. He's still completely overwhelmed by this sudden development. He didn't expect to have to deal with this. He shouldn't have to. Then, surprisingly, he realises that if this is part of Jim that yes, yes he should. He realises that he's not put off by this. It's terrible, yes, and he hates it, so much, hopes it won't happen again, but if it does, he'll fix it again. He's not willing to give Jim up over this, and he's definitely not going to let him deal with this alone. Not any more.

Once he has Jim dried off he lays out dry clothes for him to wear. Jim dresses himself as Sebastian gets dried, Sebastian's t-shirt falling mid thigh and his shorts sliding down to just barely hang from his hips. He looks small in the clothes, and more than a little broken. Sebastian quickly pulls on similar attire and sits on the bed beside him.

“Jim?”

Jim turns to look at him with eerily empty eyes.

“What happened?” When he doesn't receive an answer for several long seconds, Sebastian shifts closer. “Jim?”

“It just hurt, 'Bastian. So much. And the thoughts kept coming. The tablets wouldn't work, so I wanted you to make them quiet.”

“Are they quiet now?”

Jim nods and shuffles forward, arms held out like a child seeking to be lifted. Sebastian moves back to sit against the headboard and takes Jim onto his lap, cradling him close to his chest. When he finally drifts off, Sebastian lays him beneath the blankets. He's only got a single bed, but he doesn't mind giving it up for Jim.

*

Halfway through the night, Jim wanders out through the dark flat. He pads across to the couch where Sebastian's set up camp for the night.

“What're you doing, you idiot?”

Sebastian's still half asleep, but he can tell by the voice that Jim's better now. That the Jim he knows is back. Even through his groggy sleep haze, he feels relieved.

“Huh?”

“You should be in bed.”

“You wer'in bed,” Sebastian mumbles.

“Yes, and you should be in there with me.” Pause. “Now. Move.”

After a bit of grumbling, Sebastian drags himself through to the bedroom. Jim doesn't at all seem bothered by the fact he practically has to lie _on_ Sebastian, easily settling down onto his chest. One arm lies across Sebastian's stomach. Sebastian sets his own hand over it, stroking his thumb along the skin and feeling the little bumps of cuts beneath it.

“Thanks,” Jim murmurs, almost too quiet to be heard. He doesn't have to expand. Sebastian knows what he means. Thanks for taking care of me, thanks for not harassing me with questions, thanks for being there when no one else was.

“Any time.”

Jim presses a kiss against the curve of his jaw and Sebastian thinks that this, this is all worth it.


	6. Chapter 6

 

They don't talk about it in the morning. Sebastian thinks that they probably should, that this is something important and that it deserves attention, but Jim acts like nothing has happened and Sebastian doesn't want to risk upsetting him. Not so soon after witnessing his break down. There's selfish reasons on top of that. He doesn't want the discomfort of the conversation, nor to ruin things between them so soon, but he tells himself it's mostly for Jim's sake He makes tea and they sit at his small, rickety table and drink it. He makes toast and insists Jim eat at least one slice. Jim looks drowned in his clothes, pale and tired, and so painfully gorgeous it makes Sebastian's chest ache. He sips his tea and flicks through a newspaper that's a few days old. If he feels Sebastian's lingering gaze on him, he ignores it.

Sebastian lifts their plates when it is clear Jim isn't going to eat any more, taking them to the sink to clean up. Jim comes up behind him when he's done, stealing a kiss with such casualness, as if this were a familiar occurrence. Sebastian feels a longing stir within his chest that it were. That every morning they sat together drinking tea in comfortable silence, that Jim reads the paper in Sebastian's clothes before stealing a kiss and padding off to find his own. Although he'd prefer a more appealing prologue. Perhaps another cuddly movie night or even a good fuck. Sebastian shakes the image of Jim's bare skin, dripping shower water, from his head. He is not going to save that image to get off to. It feels wrong.

Sebastian follows Jim down the hall. He's already located his jeans, draped over one of the radiators to dry. Sebastian gathers the rest of his now warm, dry clothes for him and Jim disappears in to the bathroom to change while Sebastian sits on the arm of the chair in the living room. When he returns, he moves between Sebastian's legs to kiss him. It's a sweet, lingering kiss, and Sebastian presses forward for more. Jim allows it, but only briefly.

“I have to head or I'm going to be late for work.”

Sebastian makes an effort not to frown. He really does. He just wants to keep Jim to himself all day. To pamper him with love and attention and make everything all right. Jim leans forward for one more quick brush of lips, moving away before Sebastian can attempt to deepen the kiss or even offer to walk him down to the front door.

“Bye. Text me when your shift is over.”

*

Jim lingers on his mind all day, and Sebastian fires off a message at the end of his evening shift. They go out for drinks together that night. Jim is flirtatious, playful, laughing Jim again, and it's hard for Sebastian to remember that what happened last night was real and not just some flickering memory of a dream.

He hasn't been near a bar since his early days back in London, freshly discharged and ready to drink the rest of his life away. When Jim had made the suggestion he'd felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea, but Jim's company is good and easy, and he finds himself a lot more at ease than he thought he would be. The alcohol has left him with a hazy warmth. Not quite tipsy, but teetering at the edge of sobriety. Jim, it turns out, is a light weight, and after two drinks in he's increasingly hands-y and giggly. Sebastian isn't entirely sure it's not just an excuse to feel him up.

Another few drinks and they leave. They end up getting a taxi home because Jim complains about being cold. They're buzzed enough not to care about the driver as they heatedly make out in the back seat, Sebastian leaning with his back against the car door and Jim sprawled across him. They end up at Sebastian's flat because it's closer, and it's an effort to get up the stairs and inside with Jim determined to mouth hotly at whatever available flesh his mouth can come into contact with.

Sebastian's been hard since Jim started feeling up his thigh beneath their table, but now he's aching. He slams Jim against the door once they get inside, firmly claiming his mouth as Jim's hands slip beneath his shirt to claw at his back. Sebastian hisses, sliding his hands down along the back of Jim's thighs and hitching his legs up around his waist. He manages to stumble down the hallway, and dumps Jim on the bed before hungrily pulling his clothes off.

They fuck on Sebastian's bed, and it's a wonder the cheap wooden frame doesn't give way beneath them. It's clumsy and desperate and fuzzy around the edges due to the alcohol, but Sebastian still thinks it's pretty damn good, as does Jim, if his vocal feedback is anything to go by. He's on his back, legs clenched tightly around Sebastian's hips and feet digging into the base of his back to pull him in deeper. He's left several tracks of claw marks down Sebastian's back, which sting where the skin is broken. Sebastian groans, pinning Jim's hands above his head as he shifts his hips. Jim whimpers, body arching up off the sheets for more contact.

Time is passing strangely. They seem to exist for eternity, bodies together, but it's over far too soon. Sebastian lies on his side along the length of Jim's body, curling around him protectively and stroking his stomach. Jim's head rolls towards him, seeking out a lazy kiss. Sebastian finally forces himself to move and clean them up before falling heavily into bed again. Jim wriggles around until he's comfortably settled on Sebastian's chest, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck.

“Night, 'Bastian.” The words are mumbled into Sebastian's sweat slicked skin. He smiles, trailing his fingers down over Jim's spine. His body is small but warm, burning against Sebastian's skin in the best way.

“Goodnight, Jim.”

*

Jim, Sebastian soon finds, is rather insatiable. He is usually the one to initiate sex, and after the first time seems to be of the opinion that they should be fucking at every given opportunity. Sebastian can't really find it within himself to complain. After all, he's always had a healthy sexual appetite. If anything, Jim is an ideal partner in that respect. It's just that he can't really afford to get fired because he got caught sucking off his boyfriend in the shop's toilets. He's pretty sure Irene is aware of that, if the smile she keeps giving him is anything to go by.

“The risk is what makes it fun.” That's all Jim whispers to him when he tries to protest, hand slipping beneath Sebastian's waistband. Well, Jim is terribly persuasive, and Sebastian is only human.

Within a few weeks they've tested pretty much every piece of furniture in his flat, and Sebastian gives Ikea a glowing review in his mind for the sturdiness of their cheap-ass furniture. The only damage has come to his already rickety table, which is now shakier than ever, but he's willing to live with that. It's totally worth it.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

“So, there's this thing at work. Nothing big, but they're having a party for Halloween.” Sebastian's looking at the ceiling as he speaks, trailing his fingertips along Jim's back in random patterns. Jim stirs, looking up from where his chin is propped on Sebastian's chest. He'd been beginning to doze off. “I thought perhaps you'd like to go with me.”

Jim yawns widely, shuffling up further to nuzzle his face into Sebastian's throat. There's a dark, painful bruise there from where he'd bitten earlier, not to mention several down along Sebastian's torso. His nails have even drawn a bit of blood over Sebastian's shoulders. He laps at the bruise lazily before replying.

“Alright.”

Sebastian smiles and gives Jim a brief squeeze. He'd been a little nervous about inviting Jim along. Since they've been together, he's learned that Jim's not particularly fond of other people, and he's never met any of Jim's friends or heard him speak of anyone beyond some of his clients at work. He wasn't sure if they were serious enough for him to bring Jim into such a group setting.

In a way, the coffee shop and everyone there has become like Sebastian's family. His father had been furious when he got discharged and brought embarrassment and shame on the whole family. He'd cut off any funding and essentially disowned Sebastian, leaving him feeling more alone than he had in a long time. It isn't like he particularly cares or misses his family, but knowing he's entirely cut off from them is rather painful. Now he's found somewhere he fits, with people he gets along with and can (for the most part) rely on. It feels like he's bringing Jim home to meet them, which is silly as Jim's already been in the shop and met most of them.

“I assume it's a costume party?” Jim's voice pulls Sebastian from his thoughts.

“Of course.”

“Have you decided what you're going as?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. I'll pick then. We can go as a pair.”

Sebastian grins and kisses Jim's forehead. He's never been part of a couple costume before, and as cheesy as it is, he feels a pleasant tingle of excitement in his stomach. He trusts Jim to pick something that isn't horrible. Jim has decent taste. Sebastian sighs and settles into the pillows again, curling his arm around Jim and letting his eyes fall shut. He falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

 *

Jim comes through with the costumes just as Sebastian knew he would. They're classics, but good. He hasn't gone for anything too sickeningly cheesy. No plug and sockets, Mario brothers, or any other of the many horrid pair costumes. Instead he's picked out a Frankenstein costume for Sebastian and has suited himself up as Dracula. Sebastian can't help but think it's an excellent choice, what with Jim's pale skin and habit of slicking his hair back. Add an old fashioned suit, a cape, some dark smudges around his eyes and a dribble of blood down his chin and Jim looks the part.

Sebastian's been dressed up in shabby, torn clothes, and Jim has taken nearly a full hour to work on his face paint.

“Dracula and Frankenstein aren't actually connected,” Jim informs Sebastian, straddling his lap as he dabs the paint onto his face. “They're two different creatures from two different novels, and Frankenstein was actually the name of the doctor that created the monster. Common misconception that it's the monster's name. Still, they're often associated with each other, and there's several adaptations where it's hinted Dracula created or helped create the monster. Like in Van Helsing.”

Like most things, it turns out Jim is skilled at this, and Sebastian's impressed with how well his new grey, green tinged skin tone, complete selective stitches, is looking. He examines himself in the mirror, adjusting the plastic bolts at the side of his neck as Jim puts in his false fangs (he'd gone for just the canines that stick in with putty rather than a full plastic set). They make quite a pair.

“Ready?”

“Yessss,” Jim hisses, swooping his cape up to cover all of his face besides his eyes. Sebastian laughs, tugging the cape down so he can kiss Jim briefly, brushing off his whining about ruining their make-up.

*

Their cab driver comments on their costumes. Sebastian offers her a polite smile and Jim holds his head proudly beside him, never one for doing things in half measures. It's only twenty past seven, but already dark. When they arrive, the coffee shop shutters are down except for the one over the door, where a dim orange glow is coming from within. Sebastian leads Jim in. There's music playing quietly, and he calls out.

“Hello?”

“Oh Sebastian dear, come in, come in.” Mrs Hudson appears, ushering them in. “Oh and this young man must be Jim. So nice to finally meet you. Yes, yes, Sebastian's told us so much about you.”

She's clad in a traditional witch's costume. Long black dress and pointed hat, holding a broom in one hand.

“There's drinks over on the far table. Molly brought some wine, and Irene's brought a few bottles of something as well. Mycroft's just finishing up cooking some nibbles. I thought it was awfully good of him. Oh, I'd better go help him bring them out! Go on, go on and enjoy yourselves.”

With that she dashes off again, setting her broom on one of the empty tables. There's three pushed together with chairs around them, taking up less than half the room. The rest have been pushed against the walls, chairs mounted on top of them to free up some space. Sebastian smiles and takes Jim's hand, walking across to the table.

“I didn't realise we were bringing drinks,” he comments, glancing at Irene's collection of alcohol and fruit juice for mixing.

“I thought things would be a bit boring otherwise.” She smiles brightly at Sebastian. She's dressed as a pirate, in a very sexy, revealing costume, standing tall and proud of her body as always. Her eyes flick to Jim, who she hasn't had the chance to meet yet. Jim meets and holds her gaze. “And who is this delicious addition to our little family?”

Sebastian curls an arm around Jim's shoulders, smiling fondly down at him.

“This is Jim.”

“She's well aware who I am.” The defensive tone in Jim's voice is evident, and it's clear he doesn't approve of Irene's open flirting with Sebastian. He leans into him defensively. Irene merely laughs his attack off, pouring them both drinks and handing them across. She makes sure to brush Jim's hand with hers.

“So lovely to finally meet the man that has our Sebastian so thoroughly enthralled.” She holds her own glass up, and after a moment Jim clinks his against it. “He does nothing but talk about you.”

Sebastian laughs the comment off, feeling a blush warming his ears. He turns his attention instead to Molly, who has been silently lingering at the outskirts of their group, too shy to impose. She's wearing a black sweater and skirt over a pair of tights, her hair tied up in some kind of intricate bun and cat ears protruding from the top of it. She's drawn on a black nose and whiskers, and done her eyes smoky and dark. She's clutching a wine glass as if her life depends on it, and offers Seb a small smile.

“You look great,” he comments, and Molly blushes. Jim presses more firmly against him, but seems to feel Molly is less of a threat.

“Thanks.” She takes a sip of her wine, eyes sliding towards the door as if waiting for someone. “Sherlock and John aren't here yet. He text me to say they were running late. John did.”

“I'm sure they'll be here soon.”

Sebastian glances back at Jim, who is now engaged in a conversation with Irene. He seems to have relaxed a bit, and is no longer glaring daggers at her, so that's something. Sebastian goes back to chatting with Molly and after a few minutes, Irene and Jim join them, forming a small circle. Their conversation is interrupted when Mrs Hudson emerges from the kitchen, followed by Mycroft in a '20s style gangster pinstripe suit. They lay out trays of typical party food along the length of the tables not covered by bottles, finishing up just as the door opens again.

“So sorry we're late.” John shrugs off his jacket, and Sebastian grins when he sees he's wearing his old army uniform.

“That's original, soldier!”

“Shut up.” John grins, coming across to them, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels. “By the time I got around to looking for a costume there were no good ones left.”

“And what are you meant to be?” Irene raises an eyebrow at Sherlock, lips quirking up, her voice flavoured with the permanent flirtatious tone.

“I see no point in foolish traditions.” Sherlock scowls, hanging his coat alongside John's. He's clad in a suit, the top few buttons of his white shirt undone.

“He's James Bond,” John offers, his facial expression indicating there had been a long and stressful attempt at getting Sherlock to join in. Sebastian grins as John gives his head a little shake, then catches sight of Jim. “Oh, hullo. How've you been keeping?”

They make small talk for a few minutes, but Jim is no fan of small talk and John picks up on this. After a while he turn his attention to Molly, who has been lingering near Sherlock and giving him hopeful glances, instead, and Jim returns to Sebastian's side as he's pouring them another two drinks.

“You're not having a good time.”

“What makes you say that?”

Sebastian raises his eyebrow at Jim in the most sassy manner he can manage.

“I'm having a perfectly fine time, thank you.” Jim takes one of the glasses from Sebastian and sips at it. Sebastian can't help a small frown. He wants Jim to enjoy himself. Jim sighs and lowers his voice.

“Really, 'Bastian.” He pauses, swirling his tongue around one of his fangs and wearing his best innocent expression. “Although a kiss might make it better.”

Sebastian smiles, curling an arm around Jim's thin waist beneath his cape and pulling him close. He can feel the fangs pressing through Jim's lips when they kiss, and when he flicks his tongue into Jim's mouth he traces their plastic points.

“Enough of that, boys,” Irene interrupts. “There are single people here who would prefer not to have your happiness flaunted in front of them.”

She looks at Molly when she speaks, causing her to flush crimson.

It's not the most exciting party by any standards, but it's relaxed and comfortable and Sebastian has a good time. There's a tense moment when Sherlock attempts his analysis mind trick on Jim and Jim ends up analysing him right back (Sebastian still doesn't know how they do that, and John makes a joke about soldiers attracting their kind), but what seems like the build up to an argument simmers down into friendly competitiveness. Several times throughout the evening they try to outdo each other, and eventually Sebastian hauls Jim onto his lap in the corner and refills his glass until he's too giggly and drunk to care about anything more than mouthing at Sebastian's throat.

“Right, well, I think we're going to head.” Sebastian's giggling himself as he stands. He's been drinking steadily, and while he's not a lightweight like Jim, he's not resistant. He holds Jim round the waist, keeping him steady.

“Same, actually. Early shift tomorrow.” John rises just after them, cheeks rosy and smile wide. Gradually everyone starts getting up as Sebastian and Jim say their goodbyes. Well, Sebastian does, Jim is back to his throat again. He's lost one of his fangs and Sebastian can feel the other pressing against his skin as Jim rolls it between his real teeth.

He manages to get them into a cab and keep Jim's hands out of his trousers until they get back. He's quite impressed that they actually make it to the door of his flat before Jim's got his belt undone and hand into his boxers.

“Jim.” Sebastian breathes the word out, half a moan, fumbling and unable to get his key into the lock. It keeps moving around. He takes a breath and jams it in hard, turning and throwing the door open. He just about gets the key out before kicking the door shut and pressing Jim against it. He kisses him hard, before hauling him up and carrying him off towards the bedroom, Jim giggling all the way.

“I vant to suck your bloooood.”

“You're going to be sucking more than that, Drac.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

Things have been going well. With Jim, with work, with everything. Sebastian feels like he's finally getting his life back on track. Properly back on track, not just a temporary shift from the gutter that he'll end up drinking himself back into. His therapist says he's making great progress, but he doesn't need a therapist to tell him that. He complains to Jim about it sometimes.

“It's so stupid. 'Very good, Sebastian!' Like I'm a fucking dog or something.”

Jim finds his rants amusing. He listens, laughs and agrees and plays with Sebastian's hair or mouths at his throat. He makes his own comments on occasion, his insights a lot deeper than anything Sebastian hears in that tidy little office with the uncomfortable leather chairs. Jim's comments make him feel naked. They strip him down, tear away the skin and the muscle and leave him standing, bones with secrets holding them together. Jim can dig down to the very core of Sebastian, and as much discomfort as the sense of vulnerability gives him, there's something nice about being understood so thoroughly. Even if he has no way of dissecting Jim in the same fashion.

The anger issues are still present, and they work on them. Go over breathing techniques, little internal exercises that Sebastian can do in his head to calm himself down. It all feels a bit like utter nonsense, but he keeps at it. Things have been going well, he doesn't want an outburst to ruin that. He still has little flares of anger now and again, but there's been no explosive episodes since he returned from the army. No throwing or smashing things, no lashing out at the smallest of comments. Sebastian has been well behaved. The dog training must be working.

Jim, however, seems to take great enjoyment in making Sebastian lose his cool. He can go from sweet and cuddly, or witty and charming, from flirtatious or playful or one of his intellectual talks, to cutting, cruel, sarcastic in the bat of an eye. Sebastian takes most of it rather well. He has excellent patience when he feels the need for it, and he doesn't want to hurt Jim. He can't deny the red, hot, burning rage that bubbles beneath the surface, the deep, dark part of himself that swells up and responds to Jim's provoking. That wants to hit and punch, to lash out and make Jim ache, to paint him with bruises and pain until all the hurt inside of him is visible on Jim's skin, but then he thinks of the scars on Jim's wrists. He thinks about the time he found Jim curled up on the floor beside his bed, staring blankly at the wall and not speaking for hours. Jim's already painted with enough pain. Sebastian doesn't want to add to it.

There have been a few shouting matches between them already, but they have all been relatively calm compared to how Sebastian usually fights. Jim always deflates afterwards, as if disappointed he couldn't get Sebastian to explode. He tactically retreats to try again another day.

*

They're fighting again now. It's mid-November, and Jim has been waiting for Sebastian when he got back from work. They've been moving from flat to flat; Jim's is nicer, but Sebastian's is usually closer. It had been him that suggested Jim have a key for his place. It doesn't mean much to Sebastian. He truss Jim, his flat isn't anything important, and it's not like there is anything to steal beyond the gun stored beneath the floorboards in the bedroom. Jim, on the other hand, is secretive. He likes his personal space and he likes control. Sometimes he'll leave abruptly because he tires of company. Therefore it came as a surprise to Sebastian when Jim came with him to get the flat key cut and handed Sebastian a copy of his own. Sebastian still tells him ahead of time when he's coming, but the gesture is not lost on him.

Things start out alright. Sebastian shrugs off his coat and leans down to kiss Jim, which he grudgingly accepts.

“You hungry?” he asks, moving to the kitchen to make himself dinner. Jim's answers are short, curt, snappy, and it's clear he's in a bad mood. Still, Sebastian's used to Jim's mood swings by now, and he just gets on with making dinner and setting it on the rickety little table. It's while they are eating things really go downhill. Jim haa started poking at Sebastian's past again, making informed guesses that usually hit the mark and digging down to the subjects Sebastian isn't comfortable discussing. When Sebastian's family comes up, Jim ignores Sebastian's attempts to shift conversation, and along the line he makes a snide remark about Sebastian's father. It all goes to hell from there.

Sebastian's on the far side of the kitchen, putting space between him and Jim and trying to calm himself. He's going over the things in his head. Deep, calming breaths. Count to ten. Don't think about Father. Don't think about the truth behind Jim's words.

“Always trying so hard to be daddy's perfect little boy, but never quite managing it.”

Don't think about anything but breathing, even though breathing is getting difficult now. Sebastian's skull is shrinking, squeezing his head in. His brain pulses beneath it. His throat is tight and it's difficult to get deep breaths in to himself. The best he's managing are shallow pants.

“Oh dearie me, have I hit a nerve, Sebbykins? Are you still sore about never making daddy proud?”

Sebastian's nails are digging into his palms, but the pain isn't bringing him back. He's falling down inside himself, falling back to the past he's spent so many years trying to get away from. Anger rises up; his wall, his defense. Jim has stepped around the side of the table and is watching him with great interest.

“Thought you'd do that when you went off to the army, didn't you? Even if you didn't climb the ranks, you could die and be remembered a hero. Maybe then your memory would be something more than a disappointment.”

Sebastian can't remember crossing the room, but there's a smash as he hits the table hard enough to knock it sideways and send the plates crashing to the ground. One of the chairs goes with it, and there's nothing between himself and Jim any longer. The blood is rushing in his ears, like the crashing of a waterfall. Everything is hot and uncomfortable, skin drawn too tight over his muscles. His father is a tender enough topic without bringing his army experience into it.

Jim remains perfectly calm. Sebastian is panting, hands clenched tight into fists, body vibrating with rage. Jim is the opposite. The crash of the table hasn't caused him to jump or tremble. He is perfectly still; sharp, dark eyes trained on Sebastian's. His mouth turns upwards fractionally at the edges, the smallest hint of a smirk coming through, a small warning sign before his final attack.

“But you couldn't even manage that, could you? Just another disappointment in a long line.”

The red that has been burning around the edges of his vision suddenly takes over. Sebastian is aware of his body moving, but he's not really in control of it. He can feel Jim beneath his hands, can feel the force of his fists colliding with Jim, and it gives him a dizzy rush of pleasure through his stomach. He can feel the bones in Jim's arm where his fingers dig in, holding him up so he can hit him again and again. It's several hits later that Sebastian realises what he's doing. He releases Jim quickly, as if burned by his skin, and steps back, breathing in quick, shallow pants. Jim grips his stomach, leaning back against the counter. Blood is smeared across his mouth, bottom lip split on his tooth. The tingling sensation of excitement turns sour, making Sebastian feel sick, but there's still a hot streak of lust shooting downward at the sight of Jim, battered and bloodied. He turns away, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck. I'm- Jesus, I'm sorry.” He turns back again, panic outweighing the heat between his legs. There's no way to recover from this. Jim is going to leave now. No one in their right mind would stay after an explosion like that. “I'm so sorry, Jim.”

Sebastian continues to ramble out apologies. Jim looks dazed, but unafraid. He licks his lip slowly, and in spite of everything Sebastian's eyes are drawn to the motion. He cuts off mid sentence, looking desperately at Jim for some kind of response. Jim takes a step toward him and Sebastian almost flinches away. He grabs the front of his t-shirt and drags him in for a bloody kiss. Desire overrides confusion and Sebastian kisses back firmly, sucking blood from Jim's lip and reaching around to grab his ass, pulling him forward so their hips press together. Jim moans, lewd and wanton.

They don't even make it out of the kitchen. Sebastian has Jim spun and bent over the counter in a matter of minutes, jeans and underwear around his ankles and the edge of the counter biting painfully into Jim's hips. He's quick with preparation and Jim's still tight when he finally pushes in, producing a little whimper that sounds more needy than pained. It doesn't matter. Jim likes it rough. Sebastian knows that much from experience.

It's hard and merciless, and over almost as fast as it begins. They're both strung tight. Sebastian from the sheer pleasure of finally allowing all his pent up aggression to pour out and Jim, well, it appears Jim is rather the masochist. Sebastian mouths at his neck between thrusts and bites down hard on his shoulder as he finishes, causing Jim to let out a half moan, half cry. It can't be comfortable the way his hips are pressed into the counter, the edge digging a red indented line across the skin, but Jim doesn't complain, and it doesn't prevent him from reaching his orgasm, desperately rutting into Sebastian's hand as he continues to fuck him through it.

They should talk about it, Sebastian thinks, but they never do talk about the things they should.

They stay in place until their panting subsides. Sebastian's skin is still warm and sweat sticky when he pulls back. He slowly undresses Jim, roughness gone, only tenderness left now. He still feels guilty about what happened, but less sickeningly so now that Jim doesn't seem to be leaving. Once done, Sebastian quickly kicks off his own clothes and carries Jim through to the bathroom.

He washes him down in the shower. Jim is spent and malleable, allowing Sebastian to move him and clean away the blood. Once he's finished and Jim is wrapped in a towel he sees to his wounds, cleaning and treating the ones he can do anything for. He can't help the already forming bruises. Jim looks down at them with an expression of fondness, trailing his fingertips along them almost lovingly. Sebastian doesn't understand.

“That won't happen again.”

Jim's eyes flick up to him.

“I liked it.”

Sebastian blinks. The evidence was there, of course, but he still can't understand.

“I don't like hurting you.”

“Oh really?” Jim raises an eyebrow in question, because yes, Sebastian definitely did enjoy it. He sighs in small defeat.

“I don't like hurting you. Not like that.”

He rests his head against Jim's shoulder, kneeling between his legs. Jim's propped on the side of the bed. He runs his fingers through Sebastian's damp hair with a little smile.

“It's alright, darling. We can come up with new games.”

Sebastian looks up at Jim, eyes soft and momentarily vulnerable. He gives a little nod, pressing closer, nuzzling in against the side of Jim's neck.

“If you want.”

“There's daddy's good boy.”


End file.
